


A Brothel Boy

by Adadzio



Series: Smut [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adadzio/pseuds/Adadzio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melisandre has a request. The king doesn't really have a choice, and neither does Jon Snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brothel Boy

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompts:** "we should try adding a third person with jon snow" / “I want to fuck you right now”!
> 
> I finally caved and wrote a little threesome. Hope it satisfies! Obviously, if you don't like the pairings, read no further ;-)
> 
> xx

_“Jon Snow?”_

The boy commander froze in the doorframe, grey eyes wide as a doe’s.

Melisandre, on the other hand, simply lifted a red shoulder. “Yes, I’d like to watch you with him. That is my request.” 

The king’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I deny your request. Go, both of you. Sing some prayers to clear the madness from your head. Lord Snow shall breathe no word of this, if he places any value upon his tongue.”

“ _You_ may place great value on his tongue after the night is through, my king.” 

Jon blanched white as his direwolf. The king was less reserved. ”On second thought, I am sending you back to Asshai. Pack your things.”

“Spare me your dramatic tendencies, Stannis. Or would you prefer to remain barred from my bedchamber indefinitely?"

“I do not have _dramatic tendencies,_ ” he seethed, striding across her room. 

"Do I ask so much? I am bored,  _so bored,_ I cannot suffer another evening of monotony!”

Jon cleared his throat awkwardly. “Your Grace, I’d like to make known twas not my intent—when she called me to the King's Tower, I thought…”

The king set his terrifying blue gaze to him. “Thought what? That it was your lucky day, that you’d bed my priestess? _”_

“Well, certainly not you,” he retorted.

Melisandre smiled pleasantly. “Best to stop talking, Jon.”

The king raked a hand down his face. “You truly think we should add a third person? Fine, damn you. I’ll grant you both your obscene wishes.” They blinked in surprise. “But you— ” he pointed a finger at Melisandre—“shall be the only one participating with him. With any hope you'll tire of this fixation, realise your error, and beg my forgiveness.”

“Me?”

“You heard me. I’ll be watching from a safe distance.” 

The priestess arched an eyebrow, red eyes alight from the fire. “You won’t be…jealous?”

“Do you want this or not? I’ll concede no further.”

It was a shock that he was conceding at all, so she wisely held her tongue. A pregnant silence ensued. “My king,” Melisandre ventured, “you will need to…instruct us.”

“Are you daft, woman?”

“I don’t wish to do anything that will displease you,” she explained, coaxing Jon away from the door so she could secure it shut. 

“All of this depravity displeases me,” the king pointed out. 

The priestess sighed, remaining patiently where she stood. Eventually Stannis ceased grinding his teeth long enough to deliver the first order. “Lord Snow will disrobe.” 

“What? I'm not your brothel girl,” Jon protested. 

"A brothel boy, then."

"I'd rather cut off mine own prick!"

“Then cut it off, you wretch!”

Melisandre sighed again, turning to tug at the boy’s clothes herself. It was a small relief when he relaxed slightly, allowing her to pull at the laces of his jerkin with teasing fingers. “Perhaps my king might sit by the fire,” she suggested. Both males were still grumbling and fidgeting by the time her hands reached Jon’s waistband. 

“Enough,” the king barked. To her credit she obeyed, awaiting his next command. It took a long minute for him to formulate one, and even then his knuckles were white and taut around the chair arms. “Kneel, boy. She will bare herself just enough that you may serve her.” 

Snow fumed from head to toe. “Mayhaps Your Grace might refrain from calling me  _boy?”_

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?

“I am ten and six!”

“As I said. Don’t argue with me, boy, I’m double your age. My priestess even has years on you. Now do as I command or you’ll never see what’s beneath those red robes of hers.” 

With a defeated groan, the lad sunk to his knees, shifting uncomfortably upon the cold stone. Melisandre smiled down at her tangled red braid, twisting it idly between her fingers. “Enjoying this, my king?”

“Starting to. Lift up your skirt, kitten.”

 _“Kitten?”_   Jon repeated.

“Not you. Am I too presumptuous to think you know what to do, boy?”

“No. I know how to please her.” At their incredulous gazes, Jon straightened his shoulders defensively. “I had a woman once!”

“Then _get to it.”_

He glared at the king with those dark eyes, nerves taking over as pale legs took shape in front of him. After a tense moment he turned his head back to Melisandre. The priestess was everything men said about her, everything he’d imagined in his unwanted fantasies. _Young, full-bodied, and strangely beautiful…heart-shaped face, coppery hair, unearthly red eyes..._ Her beauty only increased ten-fold when she was holding her silks up around her slender waist.

Finally Jon could resist no longer. To his satisfaction, a soft cry tore from the woman’s throat as soon as his lips found the silky curve of her sex. His kisses were surely gentler than Stannis’s, his touch far more careful upon her thighs. Perhaps her white skin was truly made of porcelain; he'd not take his chances.

But such gentle petting would not suffice for long. Melisandre slid a finger to her own slick desire before tracing the fingertip back over her belly. It drifted up through the valley of her breasts, tantalisingly slow. Turning that red gaze to Stannis, she finally slid the finger into her mouth.

It seemed to have the desired effect on both men. Jon’s hands turned bolder, two fingers dipping inside her, another running over her clit in a determined circle. Her hips rolled into the touch, eyes heavy with longing.

The sound of grinding teeth became obvious. “My king,” she breathed sweetly, “does this not please you?” She received no response. When she tilted her head to peek at him again, his chair by the fire was empty. “My king— ?” Just then familiar hands gripped her thighs from behind and wrenched them open even wider. “Oh, _R’hllor…”_ Two pairs of hands were upon her body now, and the feeling was nearly overwhelming. Her own hands were trembling where they still held her scarlet skirts around her waist. "Let me touch you now, both of you," she demanded, the swell of her chest heaving.

The young commander remained silent, transfixed upon her sonorous accent and the task at hand. The only reply was a low rumble from the king behind her, deep and unwavering. “You'll not move until we bring you pleasure.”

"Please," Melisandre begged stubbornly, hips rolling to a desperate beat. She hated feeling helpless, hated having to lose control in front of others. Stannis hiked her skirts up until he could tear the gown over her head. Then rough fingers settled over her breasts, pinching the rosy nipples. Her body shuddered, legs trembling. Those large hands steadied her figure, thumbs smoothing over the soft flare of her hips and the curve where her bottom met her thighs.

All the while she was stimulated by the younger man’s lips and tongue, a persistent pressure building and building. She could feel herself climbing to her release, teetering on the edge. "I—please, I can’t—"

A voice was speaking to her, murmuring things her muddled mind couldn’t quite comprehend with Jon Snow lapping at her clit. The larger pair of hands pinned her against a solid chest, supporting her weight. Melisandre closed her eyes at the familiar lips against her neck, the rock-hard erection pressing mercilessly into the small of her back.

“I want to fuck you right now,” Stannis growled. At some point he had released himself from the constraint of his breeches, though he did not bother removing them. “Give her a rest, boy, but stay where you are.”

Jon pulled back, feeling dazed himself. The king was a big man in every way, given his Baratheon blood, but from this angle he seemed even larger. As an insistent cock pushed between Melisandre's thighs, lining up to slide inside her, her red eyes locked upon the dark-featured boy at her feet. There was a rigid line straining against his own breeches, female slickness grazing his solemn lips.

 _He is a comely young man_ , she decided. All coherent thought left her as Stannis thrust inside her. It was an awkward angle, and she had no way to balance herself. The king caught her just beneath the breasts, fingers spayed across her ribs, while the other hand locked her hip in place, forcing her back into an arch.

“Now,” he grit out to Jon, “you may resume.”

The priestess was soon weeping in pleasure. The world was a blur, and all that mattered was the attentive mouth buried between her thighs, the long cock filling her with unrelenting thrusts. She clutched at the king’s forearm in blind ecstasy, her other hand tangling in the dark waves of Jon’s hair. “I—I’m—”

“Hold still,” Stannis groaned.

Their bodies tensed together in one last thrust, Jon giving a final flick of his tongue. After several long moments they gingerly disengaged from one another, breathless and quiet. Snow rose unsteadily to his feet, wiping his mouth upon his wrist.

“The lord commander,” Melisandre whispered. “See how he burns in need?” Her hands finally pulled the laces from his breeches, giving his aching cock room to breathe. “Come, let us tend to him now." The king did not appreciate being ordered about, but followed her to the bed all the same. Jon fell back on the furs where she pushed him, dark eyes widening as they settled on either side of him.

A pale hand snuck down to his groin, and he nearly wept at the relief of being touched. “He’s a nice size, isn’t he, my king?”

“For a boy, I suppose." Even so, rough fingers joined hers to tentatively stroke him.

Jon panted in surprise, hips bucking up like a wild horse. “I’d no idea you were so…amorous.”

“Poor Devan Seaworth has witnessed an eyeful over the years,” she confided.

“His own fault for prying,” Stannis muttered. 

The priestess abruptly dove down, and Jon's back arched off the bed as warmth washed over his balls. "Seven hells— "

The rougher hand— _that big, strong hand_ —tightened in a firmer grip, now performing the main stimulation, from root to leaking tip. The southron king's eyes bore into his, deep and stormy blue. A violent flush spread over Jon's long face.

“Come now,” Melisandre giggled. “No need to play coy at a man's touch, Lord Snow. I see the way you look at that pretty one.” 

“The 'pretty one?'” Stannis questioned dryly.

"His new steward."

“Satin,” Jon snapped, grey eyes trained upon his feet.

“Yes… _Satin_ …” The priestess ghosted finger down his thigh, prompting him to shudder and cry out. “Tell me…does Satin have a delicate touch like mine? Do you think about him kissing you down here?”

“Yes,” Jon confessed. “Oh, _gods…”_

“There is only one god,” she hummed, fingers still stroking the skin beneath his cock. Stannis shot her a look.

“Now’s not the time for preaching, woman."

“Surely it is, my king. Did not you adopt religion this way?”

Jon closed his eyes, drowning out their bickering with the thought of Satin's black curls. It wasn’t long before he came undone, spilling seed upon his own belly and thighs. His companions were alerted back to his presence as pearly essence trickled down their tangled hands. The king grimaced in distaste, but Melisandre grabbed his fingers and slipped them into her mouth before he could complain. Once he was clean, she wasted no time in licking the mess from her own hand, red lips gleaming.

Jon swiped at the sweat cooling upon his face and neck, feeling dreadfully sticky and increasingly awkward between the pair. He wondered if he should leave. 

"You did well," the king informed him.

The praise was oddly calming. To his further relief, Melisandre slid away from him, granting him reprieve from her burning heat. She settled on the king’s side of the bed, splayed out lazily and pressing languid kisses to the blue-black shadow of his jaw. The king shrugged away with a hiss. “I can only take so much, kitten.”

Her hand snuck down between them, fingers closing around their rigid target. "This would say otherwise,” she whispered. Fiery eyes fell upon Jon’s lap, where his own cock was already stiffening again. “And that,” she purred. “How impressive.”

Stannis cursed. “Snow, you had best make yourself comfortable.”

“Wha— ?”

“My priestess is rather insatiable, as you’ll learn.” Already she was straddling the king, bottom squirming and pale hand pumping between their bodies. He groaned. “One man won’t be enough for her."


End file.
